Wishes Your Heart Make
by Richiey
Summary: AU: Nikita and Michael are married and happy, but all is not as it seems.
1. Chapter 1

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_**Wishes Your Heart Make**_

_**Chapter One**_

She dreamed of terror again that night. Blindingly white sterile walls. Calculating smiles devoid of warmth. Beautiful faces twisting into grotesque masks of death, weeping blood red tears of betrayal.

He loomed over her, condemning her, blocking her every move, cutting off her every avenue of escape. The power of life and death in his hands. Cold, dead eyes assessing. Harsh words condemning. Mocking her. Deriding her.

The scene changed abruptly, violently. Each new one more horrific, more soul destroying, than the last. Drowning her in a sea of oppressive darkness, chaotic, frightening images screaming of destruction and death.

Wrenching herself awake, Nikita's eyes flew open as she sat bolt upright in bed, an aborted scream trapped in her throat. Shaking uncontrollably, her hair damp with sweat, Nikita sat fighting back panic and the terrible sense of desolation and dread that so recently held her fast in its grip. She drew in air as the nightmarish images dissipated, melding into the shadows.

A dream, only a dream, she assured herself, but her blood continued to race through her veins, causing her heart to pound out an erratic rhythm. Looking over her shoulder as Michael stirred beside her in bed, Nikita released a relieved sigh as he settled back into sleep. The first clear thought that broke through the fear and panic clouding her mind was of Nicolas and Christophe. A moment later Nikita slipped out of bed, and made her way to the nursery, heeding an overwhelming urge to check on her sleeping children.

Stopping beside Nicolas' bed, Nikita tucked the comforter securely around his little body and soothed his dark curls from his forehead. Pausing a moment, she marveled over her oldest son, looking for something of herself in his serious little four-year-old face. He was a breathtakingly beautiful child, with eyelashes that any self-respecting woman would kill for. He was fair-skinned like her, with high cheekbones and a light sprinkling of freckles dusting the apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. But that was where any similarity to his mother ended. In looks and temperament he was his father's son. Like Michael, Nicolas was quite and incredibly self-possessed, with the Samuelle air of aristocracy. He was highly intelligent and sensitive, while possessing the most astonishingly unexpected sense of humor and ability to laugh at himself. Thinking of Nicolas' laugh made Nikita smile. He had the most wonderful laugh. It was as if delight and glee married and bore an altogether infectious full-bodied little boy chuckle, inviting everyone around him to join in the fun. Bending to give him a kiss, Nikita again adjusted his blankets and rescued Mr. Snuggles from the floor and placed him beside Nicolas in bed.

Crossing the room to Christophe's crib, Nikita leaned over the railing to pull the covers over the sleeping two year old that he had kicked off in his sleep. Brushing back a wayward lock of hair, Nikita bent down to kiss his sleep-flushed cheek. Turning toward his mother's touch, Christophe opened his eyes. "Mummy", he questioned in a whisper of a voice, raising his arms to be picked up. 

"Yes sweetie, its mummy," Nikita replied as she lifted his compact little body out of the crib. Walking over to the rocking chair, Nikita sat down adjusting Christophe's sleep heavy body into a more comfortable position for them both. Patting his diaper-clad bottom, Nikita set the chair in motion and began to hum a lullaby, trying to shake off the feeling of disquiet caused by the dream. Breathing in his unique baby scent, she smiled to herself as he buried his face against her neck. Hugging him closer, Nikita enjoyed the silence and the uncomplicated warmth of her child in her arms.

In the dark she could barely make out the baby jungle animal wallpaper. She remembered the weekend, almost five years ago, when she and Michael decorated the nursery. She had been applying adhesive to the back of the paper and was handing it to Michael to put on the wall when she felt Nicolas kick for the first time. It had surprised her so much that she had inhaled sharply, which had Michael rushing to her side. Assuring him that she was perfectly fine, she placed his hand on her stomach and waited for their son to kick again. They had been so excited and thrilled that they had grinned at each other like a pair of idiots.

After assembling the crib and changing tables Michael had left the room for a moment returning with a brightly wrapped gift. Upon opening it, Nikita promptly burst into tears, touched beyond words to find her old teddy bear, Mr. Snuggles. His left button eye was missing and his nose told the tale of an altercation with a neighborhood dog in Nikita's youth. Nikita's dad sent the well-loved Mr. Snuggles immediately upon learning that Michael and Nikita were expecting a baby, knowing that she would want her own child to grow up with Mr. Snuggles as she had done.

From the baby animal mobile above the crib and the baby hippo Diaper Genie to the baby elephant clock on the wall, the nursery was bright and cheerful, delighting the senses and calming the soul.

Glancing at the baby elephant clock on the wall now, Nikita realized with a start that she had been sitting there for nearly forty-five minutes. Standing, she crossed the room to the crib and laid Christophe down. He uttered a sleepy little protest, but his eyelids were so heavy that Nikita was sure he wasn't even aware that he had been moved. With one last glance at her sleeping boys she turned and left the room. 

Returning to her bedroom, Nikita saw that Michael was awake, and sitting up in bed. His hair was in wild disarray, making him look even sexier than usual. Recognizing the look in his eyes, after six years of marriage she still caught her breath when she saw it. It was pure unaffected love and adoration, with a healthy dose of desire. Suddenly it was as if the darkness that had stalked her dreams fell away, and nothing mattered but the two of them. Taking his outstretched hand Nikita laced her fingers with his and allowed herself to be pulled down onto the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Wishes Your Heart Makes**_

_**Chapter Two Rated R for sexual situations**_

Waking slowly to the wonderful sensation of warm, muscled body against her own, Nikita snuggled deeper into Michael's spooned embrace and smiled with lazy contentment. Heat suffused her belly and out to her extremities as she gradually recalled the previous night's exploits. Without bothering to open her eyes, she grinned in satisfaction. With the first light caress of his fingertips against her bare breasts, heat engulfed her; her arousal was instantaneous and explosive. She felt the unmistakable answering of Michael's arousal, and instinctively reached back to caress him. He groaned deep in his throat as she skimmed her fingertips along his hard length, and gasped in anticipation when she realized the extent of his arousal. 

"G'Morning," he murmured, bending his head down to hers. His warm breath tickled her ear as he gently nuzzled the side of her neck. He licked the small hollow beneath her ear and the sensation, made her tremble.

Feeling one of his hard thighs nudge her legs apart, Nikita gasped for breath and settled deeper into his arms. With the complete familiarity and lack of inhibition of a longtime lover, Michael covered her breast with sure fingers and squeezed gently. After giving equal attention to its twin Nikita felt him venturing lower.

Slick female flesh greeted his questing fingers. He explored her, the damp curls, the tender folds, and the tight passage that would lead him to ecstasy. He dipped inside of her, fitting first one finger, then another, seeking and finding her place of pleasure. Turning toward him, Nikita blindly sought Michael's kiss.

At first, he barely touched Nikita's lips with his own, rubbing gently, tugging softly, only tasting her, until their breaths mingled. As their passion escalated he deepened the kiss, urging her to open to him, to allow him entry into her sweetness. Taking her lips in open-mouthed carnal knowledge, Michael sought the depths of her passions, and found it.

A slave to the fiery passions Michael was stroking to a blazing inferno within her, Nikita was vaguely conscious of rolling onto her back, tangling her fingers in Michael's auburn curls, bringing his head down toward her own, and again taking his lips in undisguised hunger. Pulling him to her, Nikita wrapped her arms around him until he lay flush against her.

The scent of him was warm and clean and intoxicatingly sensual…pure Michael. Reveling in the feel of him, of hard-packed muscles beneath heated silken flesh, she explored until she had him groaning. Caressing his smooth, sculptured chest, his taut, perfectly defined abdomen, and lower. Reaching between them Nikita took his rigid length into her hand, stroking him lightly, from base to moistened tip, eliciting a tormented groan from between his clenched teeth.

Following her lead, Michael again sought her most intimate place. Her hips arched against his hand. As he felt her muscles tense he bent down to draw her nipple into his mouth, gently nibbling at the taut peak. She groaned, as he deepened the sensual embrace. Drawing her extended nipple fully into his mouth, suckling strongly as his fingers stroked the moist, silken core of her.

Focusing on Michael's face, Nikita could see that he was ready for her, very ready. But he was holding back, exerting his not inconsiderable will, intent on seeing to her pleasure first. Toward that end, Michael kissed a path down her body and back up again. Feeling his mouth on her thigh, moving higher and higher, Nikita arched her back in anticipation. Covering her thighs with his hands, Michael urged her legs open, and kissed the very heart of her.

Sensing her oncoming release Michael raised his head so that he could watch her. Her body stiffened. Her throat arched. Her mouth parted. Shudders swept through her. Muscles contracted and released. She clung to the bedspread and trembled uncontrollably. He marveled at the beauty before him, her blatant need and uninhibited pleasure was causing his own need to swell to the point of explosion, but with formidable control he ignored the pressure.

Gathering her in his arms, Michael held Nikita in a loose embrace. She was warm and flushed and the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. They lay quietly for several long moments, enjoying the feel of each other and the sweet ache of early morning desire.

A slumberous blue gaze caught and held a smoldering green one. "I want to feel you inside of me," she said in a husky whisper, "Now".

"Nikita," he murmured thickly as he turned onto his back settling her astride his thighs. Nikita gasped aloud when she felt his hands slide down her back, spanning her waist, lifting her slightly to a more advantageous position. His fingers sank into her flanks as he eased her gently down onto him.

Looking into each other's eyes, as they became one, no words were needed to communicate their need. Their glaze was as intimate as any caress. Nikita gasped as he entered her slowly and deliberately, inch by measured inch, until he was fully sheathed in her warmth. She moaned far back in her throat. Or Michael did.

Sensation after sensation rippled through her body. Turning over Michael tucked Nikita under him and reaching down to lift her leg high against his torso, allowing an even deeper penetration. Drawing partially out of her clinging warmth, Michael surged back into her with a power and strength that took her breath away. Nikita arched her neck, threw her head back as she wrapped long legs high around Michael's waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. Deeper and deeper he drove them both until they were caught in a tempest of feeling. Higher and higher they reached until the world exploded like a supernova and threw them beyond the reach of reason.

  
  


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	3. Chapter 3

_**Wishes Your Heart Make**_

_**Chapter Three**_

Hearing a loud crash coming from the general direction of the family room, caused Nikita to heave a resigned sigh and reach for a robe as she rushed out of her room to forestall whatever damage her two little ones were more than capable of wreaking. Finding Nicolas sitting in front of the television, contentedly watching his favorite programme, Nikita scanned the room for her youngest. Spotting Christophe doing his best monkey impression, Nikita quickly crossed the room to pull him down from the bookshelf. Squealing in protest, Christophe lodged his complaint in a charming combination of French and English baby talk, letting his mother know in no uncertain terms of his displeasure.

Laughing down into his indignant little features, Nikita was taken aback by the sheer beauty of her son. Christophe was as fair as his brother was dark. His perfect peaches-and-cream complexion, bowed lips that would put Cupid to shame, and deep ocean blue green of his eyes, was pure sunny perfection. All the more striking as they where complimented by a white-blond mess of curly locks. He had inherited his father's deep jade eyes, Nikita mused, with Michael's uncanny ability to communicate with a mere look. But his personality was pure Nikita. Christophe was garrulous and outgoing. He was loud and willful and contemptuous of any attempt to curtail his personal freedoms. He was quick to anger but even quicker to forgive, possessing an unerring sense of fair play. Always ready for a cuddle or a kiss, and a smile that could light up the world, securing him a place in the hearts of every female who met his acquaintance.

Holding Christophe's wiggling body firmly, Nikita walked over to Nicolas and sat down cross-leggged on the floor next to him. Nicolas flashed Nikita a dimpled smile, and said in his patented long-suffering big brother voice, "Mama I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. So I put pillows under him so if he falled he'd be okay."

"'Fell'. It's okay Nicolas, your brother's antics have not gone unnoticed," Nikita replied with a smile in her voice, leaning down to kiss her oldest son atop his head.

Releasing the squirming Chrisophe, Nikita rose to her feet with surprising grace and headed for the kitchen. "Are you guys ready for breakfast? How 'bout blueberry pancakes and...," Nikita's voice trailed off at the sight that greeted her.

The kitchen was a mess. There were open cereal boxes lying on their sides, contents strewn across the table. Spilt milk trailed from the fridge across the length of the kitchen, meeting the cereal in a puddle in front of the cabinet housing the crockery. Mouth agape, Nikita stared in amazement at the destruction before her. Marveling at the ability of two small boys to turn her beautiful kitchen into a post-breakfast war zone, Nikita emitted a low groan.

Nikita returned to the family room. "I see you guys have taken care of breakfast already," she said amused.

Looking up from his cartoons, Nicolas flashed her his four-year-old version of his father's wicked grin, "We were really hungry mama, and you and papa was asleep."

"Were" asleep," she corrected automatically. "It's fine, but just this once Nicky, next time wake either papa or me okay?"

"Oui."

With a bemused shake of her head she headed back to the kitchen to return it to some semblance of order, absently rubbing the small of her back.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you for your wonderful reviews, I'm happy that you're enjoying this story. **

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_**Wishes Your Heart Make**_

_**Chapter Four**_

Michael engaged the security system and headed toward the living room. Nikita was standing by the window, her arms hugging her torso. Whispers of moonlight shone through the window casting Nikita's blond hair into soft golden relief. She'd seemed fine at dinner earlier, if a little distracted, but now her body language bespoke tension. He crossed the room and approaching her from behind, his arms circled her waist and his hands gently cupped her rounded stomach. Stiffening at his initial touch, Nikita slowly relaxed and settled into Michael's embrace, resting her head back on his shoulder. 

Staring at the midnight sky, they allowed the silence to wash over them in a calm wave. Feeling her take a deep breath, Michael steeled himself to hear whatever it was that she was going to say. "Susan McNeily's office called today," she finally said. 

"Why? Is there something wrong?" 

She was trembling slightly so Michael hugged her closer. "I don't know. They wouldn't give me a straight answer except to say that they want to run some more tests. Apparently the initial ones were inconclusive." 

"When does she want to see you?" 

"Thursday." 

"So soon? If it's simply a question of replacement tests..." 

She turned in his arms, and pulled back to see his face. "Something's not right Michael, I can feel it. I'm scared." She glazed into his eyes, her voice tremulous. 

He drew her closer, and kissed her temple. "I'll postpone my trip and go with you." 

"You can't just blow off this meeting, Michael. You've been working on this acquisition for the better part of a year. The lawyers and the accountants can't sign off on the deciding points without your approval. This is important to the company-" 

"Do you really think that I'm going to let you face this alone? _You_ are very important to me, more so than the Mannus deal," he said interrupting her. "I'll send Birkoff, let him pick up some of the administrative slack instead of playing with his computers all day." 

"Birkoff? Birkoff doesn't do _people_ Michael, his interpersonal skills are rusty at best. He can barely tolerate us, and he _likes_ us," Nikita said with a wary chuckled, thinking of Michael's vice president of technological communications, research and development. "The Mannus people won't work with him. You have to go." 

"They'll work with whomever I tell them to work. Kita, this takeover is as good as done. This last-minute wrangling is merely perfunctory face saving on their part. I indulge them because it cost me nothing to do so," he asserted arrogantly. In that instance it was again evident to Nikita how Michael was able to build the floundering Samuelle Group that his father left him into a formidable multinational concern. 

"But all that time, all that money," she protested. 

"It's only money, Nikita," he said with a very Gallic shrug. "You are my wife, you come first. _Always_." 

Weakly she allowed her head to drop forward, the pale curve of her neck bending until her forehead rested on his shoulder. Michael lightly stroked her nape; he felt the knots and began to carefully knead the coiled muscles. Brushing a soft kiss just before the silky strands of her hairline, he soothed away her tension with deep circular massaging movements. 

"I love you so much Michael," Nikita whispered into his shirt. 

He raised her chin with a tender touch, smoothing her hair out of her face until her eyes met his. "We're in this together. This is our life, our family," he said softly. "We fought long and hard to get to where we are, and I'll let nothing get in the way of that. Nothing is more important to me than you and our children", Michael said as he laid a caressing hand over their daughter. 

His dark head lowered slowly and his lips took gentle possession of hers in a kiss, one not so much of passion, but of comfort and commitment. "Anyway, you know I'd do anything to get you back into one of those cute paper gowns with the backs out. It brings back such pleasant memories of your last stay in hospital," Michael teased. 

"Had it not been for your son's impeccable timing in making his appearance when he did Michael Samuelle, that head nurse would have had your very cute, very _bare_ butt warming the street curb that night buster," Nikita tossed back. 

"Well, if someone hadn't been quite so...ah...vocal we wouldn'tve been caught with our pants down in the first place..." he trailed off taking her lips in another kiss; smiling in response to the smile he tasted on her lips.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Wishes Your Heart Make**_

_**Chapter Five**_

Nikita awoke in the middle of the night, abrupt and anxious. Her hands sought her stomach, protectively cradling her unborn child as she glazed into the darkness, trying to identify what had pulled her so completely from a sound sleep. Realizing that Michael's side of the bed was empty, Nikita felt an awful sense of loneliness wash over her, a desire to be near him prompted her out of bed. 

Walking down the hall, Nikita saw that the light in Michael's office was still on. Peering in, she could see Michael seated at his desk working, signing papers from the thick sheaf in front of him. 

She stood there watching him for ages, content to just study him. Until, sensing her presence, Michael slowly lifted his head and saw her. 

"What's the matter?" he asked softly. 

Nikita took a step into the room, feeling silly, and slightly embarrassed to have tracked him down. She saw his eyes narrowing on her body, on her hands absently rubbing her stomach, which was barely veiled by the old T-shirt she wore. 

Seeing the concern in his eyes, Nikita quickly dropped her hand and entered the room to reassure him, "We're fine Michael, I just woke up and missed you." 

As he watched her approach, Michael thought how beautiful she was. She was wearing one of his old University T-shirts for a nightgown, which normally hung just pass mid-thigh, but now barely covered her swollen stomach. Pregnancy had changed her body, gently rounding it, softening the sharp angles and the sleekly pronounced muscled strength caused by the unforgiving workout routine she had adhered to for years before the children came. Watching her, flushed and pink, fresh from sleep, Michael stood and gathered her in his arms. Loving the feel of her and that of their child pressed between them. He never tired of seeing her this way, full with his child, tangible evidence of their love made flesh and blood. "So beautiful," he whispered into her hair. 

Nikita looked up at her husband and smiled. He made her feel so loved and secure. "You finished here?" she asked. 

"It will keep." 

Hand in hand they walked down the darkened hall toward their bedroom. Just as Nikita reached to turn out the bedside lamp, the telephone rang. With a puzzled frown she reached for the phone and said in an inquiring voice, "Hullo?" 

"Josephine," a slightly accented voice replied in a near whisper. 

Nikita felt an unexplainable chill creep up her spine. In an unconscious movement she placed her hand over her unborn child as she quickly informed the caller that he had the wrong phone number and rang off. 

At his touch, Nikita turned to Michael with troubled eyes. "It was the oddest thing. The man, at the other end of phone...it was as if he expected something from me," she haltingly tried to explain. "Even after I told him that he had the wrong number, he stayed on the line. It was...it was eerie, unsettlingly so." 

"It's been a long day, let's get some sleep, hum?" 

Without another word, Nikita went willingly into Michael's arms. With a small sigh, he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her and their child. 

When Michael's breathing deepened, indicating that he was asleep; Nikita opened her eyes and stared into the darkness, her brow furled.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Wishes Your Heart Make**_

_**Chapter Six**_

Seated across from Susan McNeily's desk, Michael and Nikita held hands, waiting for her to speak. 

"Nikita I asked you to come in today because the results of the tests from your last visit caused some concern." 

"Is something wrong with our baby, Susan?" Nikita demanded, tears thick in her throat. 

"No. No, Nikita. The baby is fine. All tests indicate that she is developing normally and according to schedule," the doctor said firmly. 

"Then what is the cause of your concern, doctor," Michael asked. 

With a calm smiling face Dr. McNeily answered him, "Nikita's urine test indicated that the kidneys are excreting elevated levels of protein. This concerned me because high levels of protein in the urine is a early symptom of a condition called preeclampsia." 

"Preeclampsia?" 

"Preeclampsia, eclampsia and pregnancy-induced hypertension, or PIH, are collectively called the hypertensive disorders of pregnancy. Preeclampsia is identified by some very particular symptoms. Such as a rise in blood pressure, retention of fluids to the degree of swelling in the hands, feet, legs, and face. A sudden increase in weight and high levels of protein in the urine. As well as severe, presistance headaches and in extreme cases, visual disturbances, and sometimes pain in the upper right side and shoulder area. If left untreated, preeclampsia can be very serious, it can develop into eclampsia, which can result in convulsions. Which can be very dangerous to both mother and child," the doctor explained. 

"But I don't have any of those symptoms, Susan, except the protein. Does that mean I have this...this preeclampsia?" 

"That's why I asked you to come in today. I needed more information to answer that question. You haven't exhibited enough of the symptoms to point with any certainty toward preeclampsia, but it would be negligent of me not to apprise you of the possibility so that we can monitor you carefully. And while it is extremely rare that the convulsions of Eclampsia just 'come on' without these other signs and symptoms present, it is not impossible. I wanted to let you know what to be on the look out for so that we can are prepared for any situation which could put you or your baby in danger," the doctor said with a reassuring smile. 

Michael and Nikita spent another thirty-five minutes asking Dr. McNeily question after question about preeclampsia, Eclampsia and its symptoms and effects. 

Thanking Susan for her patience, they left her office with a promise to make an appointment for the following Thursday with the receptionist before they left.

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As her office door closed behind Michael and Nikita Samuelle, Susan McNeily's confident smile slipped until it disappeared altogether. As she glanced down at Nikita's file she mentally went over the interview, certain that she had covered all the bases, but unable to shake off a feeling of disquiet and foreboding. She closed the file and placed it in her out-box for the secretary to pick up later. 

Susan checked the clock and sighed, she had missed lunch again. "Probably just hunger pains," she dismissed and picked up Helena Roma's file in preparation for her next appointment.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Wishes Your Heart Make**_

_**Chapter Seven**_

Michael lay vanquished, a hapless victim of two bloodthirsty marauders. It had been a particularly gruesome battle; Michael had fought long and hard, only to be overcome by the two villains. They showed no mercy. In the end they stood over the fallen hero, weapons aloft, and roared their victory.

Nikita found them like that. Michael was laid out on the floor while Christophe and Nicolas crowed over him in triumph.

Christophe was so excited by his victory that he stumbled and fell on his well-padded diapered bottom. When he spotted his mother he scrambled to his feet, bouncing up and down on tiptoes causing his black pirate's hat to fall down over one eye at a rakish angle. He pointed a dimpled finger at his father and said, "Me and Nicky is pirates and wes made papa walk the p'ank."

"We made him take us to his treasure." Nicolas added, a devilish glint in his eye.

"Well, don't forget mommy when you guys become rich and famous," Nikita said with a chuckle as Michael winked at her from the floor.

"I'm meeting Carla at _Tribbianca's_ for lunch," she told him as she reached into the closet for her jacket. "I should be back in a few hours."

Michael heaved himself to his feet with a miniature pirate hoisted under each arm. "To the victors goes the spoils, so we'll be heading off in search of...", he trailed of as if uncertain.

"Pizza!" "Hamburgers and ice-cream," the boys piped in.

A smiling Michael leaned down and kissed Nikita, "What they said."

Kissing each of her boys in turn, she opened the kitchen door and stepped into the garage. Waving from the car Nikita backed out of the garage and hit the button to close the door behind her.

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Carla thanked the waiter as he cleared their plates away. As he took the rose lined path toward the stone foot bridge leading back to the main restaurant, Carla looked across the table at Nikita with a slightly worried smile.

"You're looking a little flushed. Are we feeling guilty about putting a skid mark on our platinum card?" Carla teased.

"Hum?"

Seeing that her friend was a million miles away, Carla leaned across the table, waving her hand in front of Nikita's face, "Helloooo? Earth to Nikita, come in Nikita."

"Oh, sorry Carla, I guess I'm a little spacey today. What were you saying?"

"Are you okay Nikita?" Carla was growing concerned.

Shaking her head in denial, Nikita assured her friend, "I'm fine Carla, just a headache and the baby is really active today, I'm feeling a little run down. I think I'll take a raincheck on that movie and head home."

"Alright. Are you okay to drive? I can..."

"No, no, I'm good. I'll call you after I take a nap. Michael and the boys are out, it'll give me a chance for some uninterrupted rest."

"Well, if you're sure?"

"I am." Getting up the friends hugged and set off arm and arm toward the main restaurant.

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Nikita and Carla stood in the foyer of the restaurant waiting for the valet to bring their cars around when Nikita's abdomen tightened with what she assumed was a Braxton-Hick contraction; she had been having them all day yesterday and throughout the morning. Breathing deeply through it, waiting for it to pass, Nikita glanced down when she felt something wet her skirt and realized with amazing calm that her water had just broken.

"Humm, Carla, my water just broke. I need to get to the hospital," she announced trying to say calm in spite of the fear clawing at her. "The hospital Carla," she repeated in a near scream when her friend just looked at her blankly.

"But...but...but you're not due for a couple more months yet...you...you can't be in labour!"

"Yes, I am aware of that! Carla! Snap out of it, I'm going to need you to help me here. I need to get to my doctor; it's too early. Please do not flake on me now!"

Carla immediately pulled herself together and in the ensuing moments, she notified Dr. McNeily's office, arranged for the restaurant to have Nikita's car delivered to her house, got Nikita into her low slung two-seater and took off for the hospital. With no success in tracking Michael down, she left messages with everyone she could think of in case they encountered him at some point.

Susan McNeily and two nurses met the car at the emergency entrance with a wheelchair and whisked Nikita off to the maternity ward.

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Helping Nikita onto the examining table as two nurses began to prep her for an exam, Susan McNeily asked, "How far apart are the contractions?"

"Four, maybe five minutes," came the hissed whisper as another contraction seized Nikita's body. No sooner had it passed then immediately on it's heels did a weird feeling wash over her.

"Susan, I feel strange...," She felt weak and drained, tears bleared her vision. Through a haze of confusion and fear she fought off the faintness threatening to engulf her. From what seemed like a far way off Nikita could hear Susan assuring her that everything was under control.

Suddenly Nikita's body arched and her muscles locked, then she immediately began to jerk violently, tossing her head about as if she were a rag doll. Ordering the nurses to assist her with transferring Nikita onto a gurney, and commanding another who just entered the room to call ahead to have an operating room readied. Susan pushed the dread for her friend aside, wrapping her professionalism and skill around her like a cloak, she bent over her patient and went to work trying to save both the lives of Nikita and her much wanted daughter.

As the gurney slammed through the operating room doors, Nikita whispered Michael's name over and over as tears fell unceasingly.

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	8. Chapter 8

AN: Okay, first things first. Thank you all for such nice and encouraging feedback. Second, this chapter will be a rollercoaster ride. It was rough to write, it'll be rough to read. And it'll just get more confusing as we get closer to the end (chapter 10). I just ask that you hang in there with me. All is not what it seems. 

By the way, I don't own any of the characters except the kids and the good doctor. I'm making no money on this just the pleasure of extending the life of a much admired show that has since gone off the air.

-Richiey

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_**Wishes Your Heart Make**_

_**Chapter Eight**_

Michael glanced at his speedometer and backed off of the accelerator, although his every instinct was to floor it. Having spent an enjoyable and energetic afternoon with his sons, first at a restaurant geared exclusively to families with young children and then at the park, as they were returning to the car Michael's mobile phone began ringing. Surprised and curious to see Carla's name flashing across its monitor Michael answered. After calming a hysterical Carla enough to get the gist of the story, Michael strapped the boys into their car seats and headed for Walter's house, which was on the way to the hospital. He didn't allow himself to think of Nikita until he had dropped the kids off, cautioning them to mind their "Unca" Walter.

Arriving at the hospital, Michael pulled into emergency, parked the car and headed for the entrance. Stepping off the elevator onto the maternity floor Michael stalked purposefully toward the nurses' station. "Nikita Samuelle. Where is she please?" he asked in a polite, if somewhat strained voice.

Looking up from the desk with a professional smile, the nurse reached for her patient roster, "Are you any relation to Ms. Samuelle sir?"

"Her husband," came the curt rejoinder.

"One moment please," turning back to Michael the nurse said, "Mr. Samuelle your wife has gone into labour. She's in operating room..."

"Operating room? Why is she in an operating room?" he cut her off, "She's only thirty-two weeks along."

"Sir, you will have to speak with Dr. McNeily."

Michael's facial expression hardened, stripping it of even a minimal veneer of civility, revealing a man dangerous to cross. The green fire in his eyes cooled, icing over to granite-like jade. "Where is my wife?" he bit out in a gentle murmur, making it all the more frightening for its quite menace.

Answering in a terrified stammer the nurse told him and fled down the hall in the opposite direction. Michael stalked down the corridor, past the maternity ward waiting room toward the surgical wing.

##################################################

A startled Susan flinched as the doors slammed open to admit a pale Michael. His eyes immediately zeroed in on an unconscious Nikita atop the table. Motioning for Dr. Jannerson, the third year surgical resident, to close, Susan handed him the sutures, stripped off her gloves and walked toward Michael.

Taking Michael firmly by the arm Susan tried to lead him out of the operating room. It was like trying to move a mountain with her index finger. Realizing that he wasn't moving Susan changed tacks and said, "Michael, I need to speak with you and we can not do so in here."

Michael looked down at her as her voice began to register over the thundering panic pounding in his head. Her surgical scrubs were stained red with his wife's blood, "How is she Susan?"

"Please Michael," she said gesturing toward the hall.

No sooner had the doors swung closed behind them did Michael shoot a barge of questions at her, "What happened? How is she? Is the baby in danger?"

"Michael, Nikita went into premature labour about two hours ago and her friend Carla brought her in. As we were attempting to evaluate the situation she begin to fade into and out of consciousness. Just as we begin to stabilize her, she began to experience Grand Mal seizures. Her protein levels were dangerously elevated and her blood pressure was causing some concern as well. We didn't have the option of stopping the contractions with medications because of the eclampsia. Once we got the seizures under control the fetal monitor indicated that the baby was in some distress. I deemed it necessary to perform an emergency Caesarean Section. She and the baby came through the C-section fine, but we'll be monitoring Nikita closely throughout the night."

"Can I see them?"

"Nikita will be taken to recovery soon and when she comes out from under the anesthesia she'll be taken to her room and you can see her then. But you can see your daughter now." Susan assured him with a gentle smile.

##################################################

The Neo-natal unit was outfitted in soft yellows, warm blues and muted light. Susan stopped beside what appeared to be a state of the art infant incubator. Following her glaze, Michael looked through the glass and his heart nearly stopped. He saw fathomless blue eyes, and a tuff of nearly white blond hair atop the baby's tiny head.

"She's so small," he whispered reverently.

"Yes she is. She is nearly eighteen weeks early, but for a preemie, very healthy. Her lungs are fully developed, allowing her to breath on her own and she is alert and responding well. She weighed in at just under five pounds, which is a very good birth weight for premature babies. This contraption is used for all of our preemies, she's fit as a fiddle. Would you like to hold her?"

"Yes. Please."

Holding the baby, Susan approached Michael and passed his daughter to him. Michael took the baby in his arms and smiled down at her. She was so tiny and fragile. "She's so much smaller than her brothers were when they were born," Michael murmured.

"_Mon Dieu_," he said, his voice full, "she's beautiful." At the sound of his voice the baby opened her eyes and stared at her father with a steady unblinking glaze. And it was in the space of those few seconds that another daddy fell like a ton of bricks beneath the spell of his little girl. It was love at first sight.

Pleased with herself, she blew a raspberry and relaxed in her father's embrace, content in the knowledge that she was adored.

##################################################

Normally a very still and stoic man in the face of trouble, Michael paced the corridors outside of recovery like a caged tiger. He had experienced the deepest of depths and the highest of heights in a matter of hours. A yawning, crippling fear had taken hold of him since Carla's call and it still held him in its relentless grip. Nikita was scheduled to be transferred to her room any minute now but his fears would not be allayed until he saw her.

"Michael."

Michael turned and saw Susan walking slowly toward him. Whatever Michael saw in Susan's face prompted him into action. He intercepted her before she could reach him and cut off whatever she was about to say.

"I want to see her _now_," his voice was husky with emotion.

"This way Michael."

Michael briefly paused at the door, visibly gathering himself; he reached to push the door open. When he walked into the room, all he could see was Nikita. Pale cheeks streaked with tears. Her long blond hair was damp, framing her still sweaty face, lines of exhaustion around her mouth and eyes. She was beautiful and very still.

A powerful blow of grief shook Michael to his soul, unleashing an anguished cry, "_**No!**_"

He went to her and took her limp body into his arms. He held her as Susan tried to explain the unexplainable, that his wife was dead. Michael held her for an eternity, rocking her, kissing her, weeping for her, for their children, and for himself.

"Kita. Nikita. _Nikita_!"

##################################################

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Okay, here's where the ride gets bumpy. Hold on tight and pay attention and all will make sence. Thank you for the wonderful words, I love when people like my work.

Now, without further ado...

_****_

_**Wishes Your Heart Make**_

_**Chapter Nine**_

"Nikita. Nikita. _Nikita_."

Nikita's eyes flew open and her heart nearly stopped. She was in MedLab, she didn't need to see the doctors or hear the machines to know. She just knew. Dread threatened to choke her.

"How are you?"

With a start, Nikita turned as much as she was able, to see Madeline standing just inside of the entrance, watching her with a slight smile on her otherwise inscrutable face. Still more than a little off balance, Nikita unwittingly gave the standard Section response. "I'm fine."

With a slight smile on her lips Madeline advanced to Nikita's bedside. "We were concerned for a while there. Had the bullet lodged half an inch to either the left or right your chances of survival would have been minimal at best."

When Nikita didn't respond Madeline instructed her to get some rest and turned to leave. She paused at the door's threshold and turned back to Nikita. With seeming innocuousness she asked, "Did you know that you talk in your sleep?" Mona Lisa smile firmly in place Madeline continued out of the door, not bothering to wait for a response.

As she stared at the ceiling Nikita allowed the tears to flow unchecked. With a profound sense of bereavement she hesitantly touched her stomach, flat and taut, where only a dream ago it had been full with the promise of new life. Pain and sorrow tugged at her, mercilessly pulling her toward the edge of the abyss. Images of her "children", her "life", mocked her, they thundered through her emptiness, while longing stole her breath. Trying to fight off the anesthesia, Nikita attempted to focus on the pain, to bring reality into sharp focus.

"Nikita", a soft whisper came from the doorway.

Turning toward the sound of Michael's softly accented voice, Nikita struggled to prop herself up. In an instant he was there, placing a comforting, if restraining, hand on her shoulder. In tact obiedence Nikita laid back and studied Michael. Noting the differences between this Michael and the Michael of her dreams. 

It was in the eyes. The constant guard, the layers of protective barriers, and the distance he kept between himself and everyone he encountered. Amazed at the extent to which she had stripped Michael of all that kept them apart, Nikita stared in wonder at this familiar stranger.

"How are you feeling?" he queried.

"What happened?" she countered.

"The initial Intel gathered was incomplete. Therefore the profile was flawed. There was insufficient time to allow for egress following the surgical strike. Team Two laid down cover fire but we were out-manned and out-gunned. We suffered heavy losses in the ensuing firefight. You were hit." 

"Did we achieve end game?"

"Yes," he replied with an ironic twist of his lips.

"Madeline said something about there being a question of my surviving." Nikita whispered weakly.

"There was some concern, yes. En route to the Section you went into cardiac arrest and respiratory distress. After the doctors removed as many of the bullet fragments as they dared you lapsed into a coma." 

"How long?"

"Six days."

"S...six days," she faltered, "I've been in a coma for six days?"

"You came out of it yesterday and have been sleeping fitfully since." He paused, looking at her. "How do you feel?"

"I'll be fine," she murmured and closed her eyes, effectively shutting him out. But she wasn't fine. She might never be fine again, Nikita thought. Her vulnerability had been brought home to her once again. Even unconscious she had managed to betray herself. She felt as if her heart were breaking. With a small sigh she surrendered to the darkness.

Watching her sleep, Michael noticed when her breathing grew shallow and rapid, then, suddenly the machine monitoring her heart screamed in alarm. Doctors rushed in firing instructions to the nurses that followed hard on their heals. 

With a sense of disjointment, Michael stepped out of their way, moving to the foot of Nikita's bed. As he watched, the medical staff worked on her, one nurse started an IV, while another took her blood pressure. While everyone rushed around, Michael watched the scene with an unnatural calm. He watched as one of the new doctors began chest compressions. When Nikita flat-lined, he grabbed a set of paddles from a nurse and ordered everyone away. Once, twice, a third time. 

From a seemingly great distance, an urgently pleading voice broke through the fog of shock and pain, Michael didn't realize that it was his own, he didn't recognize his voice urgently calling out Nikita's name. Over and over and over again, "Nikita. Nikita. _Nikita_."

#################################################

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Well whether will the reality be the dream, or will the dream be the reality will be answered in this chapter. So I hope you likey.

_****_

_**Wishes Your Heart Make**_

_**Chapter Ten**_

"Nikita. Nikita. _Nikita!_"

Nikita looked up from her word processor and shook her head slightly, as if to clear away the fog. Focusing, she saw Susan McNeily, the friendly day shift guard in the maximum security wing of the prison that Nikita was serving a life term in.

"Hullo Susan," Nikita replied with a hesitant smile.

"Welcome back to earth," she teases with a chuckle, "How's the book coming?" 

"It's not really a book, just some creative writing to keep my mind occupied" 

"So when do I get to read it?" 

"You wouldn't be interested. Just silly cloak-and-dagger camp", Nikita demurred. 

"Well, your attorney is waiting for you in the visitor's room." 

Nikita's face lit up at the news. Reaching up she finger combed her hair, stood and straightened her prison issue jumpsuit.

Smiling, Susan teased, "He's very attractive, do you think you could pass along my number?"

Flashing her a look Nikita bared her teeth in a pseudo snarl, "Back off Suz, he's all mine. And once I'm out of this horrible place I'll be staking my claim good and proper."

Laughing Susan lead her out of the cellblock to the waiting room.

####################################################

Michael looked up as she entered. "Basil Jhatt's confession was allowed into the record. Your verdict was overturned by the higher court and as soon as the paper work is completed, you will be a free woman."

Nikita caught her breath, stunned. "Five years. Five years of being believed a cop killer, five years of this hellhole, five years of my life. And just like that, it's over. I..I'm free?"

"Yes, Nikita, you are free."

"Thanks to you Michael. You saved my life. No other lawyer would take my case, but you believed me. Thank you," she whispered brokenly. Stepping into his embrace Nikita broke down and cried. She cried all the tears she had denied herself for five long years.

"Nikita. Nikita. _Nikita_, it's over now." Tilting up her chin Michael placed a soft kiss on her lips. "You have a future now."

Smiling into his eyes, Nikita agreed, "Yes we do."


	11. Epilogue

_**Wishes Your Heart Make**_

_**Epilogue**_

**_Six years after Nikita's release..._**

Nikita was asleep, exhausted from a long hard labour. She had dark circles under her eyes, her hair laid limp, without its usual sheen and she was as pale as a ghost, but to Michael she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. 

Waking, Nikita turned. seeing Michael she smiled, "Hullo." 

"Hello yourself. How are you feeling?" 

"Tired, but happy. Where is she?" 

Reaching into the bassinet Michael picked up their daughter and placed her in her mother's arms. With tears in her eyes Nikita looked up at Michael and whispered, "She's so beautiful." 

Bending down, Michael kissed first Nikita and then the baby. "She's going to need a name or they might not let us take her home," he teased, smiling. 

"Michaela Rose." 

Blinking back sudden tears Michael choked out in a husky whisper, "I like it, it suits her." 

Walter poked his head in the door, seeing that Nikita was awake he grinned. "Hey Sugar, the natives are restless and want to meet their new sister". 

No sooner had the words left his mouth did the restless natives in question burst into the room at full volume demanding to see "their" new petite bébé. 

"Il est mommy rouge et froissé." 

Looking down at her three year old's expression of distaste, Nikita laughed out loud, "She's a little wrinkled, yes, but she won't stay that way." 

"Est-ce que je puis tenir le papa de bébé? I not drop her." 

Michael helped Nicolas up onto the bed and then picked Christophe up and hugged him, "Let's wait for mommy to finish her turn first, hum?" 

Smiling at Nikita over the heads of their sons and the sleeping newborn, Michael mouthed, "I love you."

####################################################

_**Downstairs in the gift shop a woman picked up a newly released bestseller**_

Approaching to help, the clerk said,"That's a really good one. And the author is actually here, she's just given birth to her third baby you know." 

Opening the flap, the woman read the dedication: 

_To Michael, Nicolas, Christophe and Michaela Rose.   
Once you were simply wishes my heart made,   
Now you are my entire world, my reality._

Finis.


End file.
